


War Table and War Paint

by amissaelit815, nenuphar8



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, Heda, One Shot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing, War Paint, War Table Sex, skai prisa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amissaelit815/pseuds/amissaelit815, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nenuphar8/pseuds/nenuphar8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is ready and Lexa finally uses her war table for something other than maps</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Table and War Paint

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this is my first time posting and writing smut soooo please enjoy while I go hide in a corner.
> 
> Special thanks to nenuphar8! Couldn't have done this without you buddy!! You are the comma Queen!
> 
> Feedback, comments, and suggestions are always welcome :)

“You sent for me,” Clarke calls as she lifts the flap of Lexa’s tent. Her eyes immediately scan the area, noting the exit locations and searching for any weapons or potential threats. It's practically instinct now, after these harsh months spent on the ground. She first takes in Lexa’s swords and armor resting on their post in the corner, then the middle of the room. The wooden war table stands strong in the center, maps still scattered across it from earlier in the morning. 

Their plan of taking action and stopping the small uprising of traitors on the outskirts of Trikru territory had worked well. There were no casualties and only minimal injuries for the Trikru and Skaikru warriors, nothing Abby, Clarke, Nyko and the other healers couldn’t handle.

Her intake of the room comes to a halt as her eyes fall upon Lexa. She is in simple attire, a loose black tank top and ripped pants, nothing like her armor from the day’s earlier battle. Clarke boldly takes in the tattoo scrawling around Lexa’s right arm and the war paint still streaking across her cheeks, adjusting her gaze to stare into Lexa’s eyes. 

Lexa turns fully toward Clarke, looking her up and down in turn. Like Lexa, Clarke has changed into something more comfortable than battle gear. She is wearing a beat up jacket with her grey shirt underneath. Her shirt is slightly torn, and it allows some of the pale skin that rests above her jeans to show. This catches Lexa’s attention. The two of them had been exchanging meaningful looks, words, and occasional touches for sometime now. But Lexa had been waiting for some sign from Clarke, a go ahead. 

She had gotten exactly what she had been waiting for right before they were notified that it was time to put their plan into motion. Clarke had admitted to her that she was ready to be with someone. But then they had been called to battle. 

Throughout the morning, Clarke had been not so discreetly staring at Lexa, and looking as if she were deep in thought. When Clarke had followed her back to her tent after breakfast, Lexa hadn’t thought much of it. She thought that Clarke wanted to run through the battle plans one more time, and that's what had been on her mind. 

But once they were alone, Lexa knew immediately that she was wrong. Clarke had determination on her face and fire in her eyes as she walked towards the war table. Lexa could sense her feelings were not directed towards the upcoming battle, but rather towards her. The way Clarke’s eyes bore into hers as she turned and rested her hip against the table made Lexa freeze. 

Clarke took a slow, steady breath, her eyes briefly glancing down, collecting her thoughts. When she tilted her head back up toward Lexa, determination was still set firmly on her face, but her eyes were calmer. The confidence that shown in her eyes was what Lexa had seen when she was totally in control. Clarke was sure of whatever internal decision it was that she had made. 

“I am ready, Lexa,” her voice broke the silence. Soft, yet strong, and it pierced through Lexa.  
Lexa tried to find her voice, but all the words seemed to be stuck in the back of her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. Her brain was on overdrive, her emotions on high alert, and her heart was beating faster than right after a battle. 

Lexa couldn't contain herself to one single thought. Her mind flew in all directions at once, wondering what had changed. Wondering if Clarke's adrenaline for the confrontation to come was affecting her judgment. Wondering if Clarke truly wanted this or if she was just trying to make the most of things before the unknown of battle.

Clarke took a step towards Lexa, locking their eyes and seeing Lexa’s unvoiced questions reflected in them. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure. I am positive, Lexa.” 

Lexa let out a breath of air she didn’t even realize she was holding in. She was about to close the distance between them, her hand almost in blonde locks, when a guard barged in to report, “We must leave now, they have passed the boundary and are getting closer.” 

All she wanted was to have Clarke’s lips on hers, but her duty as Commander called. Lexa wasn’t sure who she wanted to murder more in that moment, the traitors or that guard. She took this rage with her into battle, slaughtering anyone who came in her path or got in her way. 

Although this had all occurred only a few hours ago, to Lexa it feels like it has been years. Having Clarke so close, knowing that she could now touch her in ways she had only dreamed, but not being able to, is torturing her. She had restrained herself from asking Clarke to come back with her directly after the fight. There were things they both needed to attend to first. 

When Lexa was sure her wounded warriors were taken care of, she sent for Clarke. And that is how Clarke ended up in her tent, holding her gaze. 

Clarke’s “you sent for me” is not a question and neither are the words that follow, “Tell me what you want, Commander.”

Lexa had been thinking about many of the things she wanted since their earlier discussion, but somehow something that was not on that list escapes from her mouth in an authoritative voice. She never imagined herself saying, “For you to call me Heda.” But now since she had, she supposes that there is no backing out of it. 

Lexa hears a small gasp that must have come from Clarke. She looks surprised for a fleeting second before a small grin tugs at her lips. 

Clarke takes one purposeful step towards her and says, “Just fuck me,” her voice dropping slightly lower, “Lexa.”

It is a challenge. Clarke had thought about letting Lexa have control, but this is more her style. Besides, Lexa had been in command of many things today. Clarke thinks it is actually pretty nice of her to let Lexa not have to uphold her leadership role in this as well. 

Lexa stands rigidly with her mouth agape, staring at Clarke, looking as if she does indeed need instruction. Clarke is happy to oblige. She opens her mouth, but before she can form a sentence, Lexa is moving. She places herself directly in front of Clarke. 

She can hear the hitch of Clarke's breath, her words getting caught in her throat. Clarke spends a moment taking in the striking woman before her. Clarke doesn’t think she has ever seen Lexa look more beautiful than this, green eyes dark and pupils blown, warpaint streaking boldly across her cheeks and accentuating her jawline.

Clarke’s tongue darts out and gently bites down on her bottom lip. This time it’s Lexa’s eyes that wander, taking in the action with a noticeable clenching of her jaw. Clarke can see that she is trying to stay in control. Clarke doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want the stoic Commander, she wants Lexa. Her Lexa. The woman no one else gets to see. It makes Clarke want to cherish her even more after she fucks her senseless. 

Clarke decides that they have been having eye sex long enough. She takes the final step towards Lexa, holding her searing gaze. She wants the real thing. 

They are now mere inches away as Clarke takes one last glance at Lexa’s lips, her own forming a small smirk as she breaths out a whisper of her words from earlier, “Fuck me, Lexa,” and then her smirk falls as a barely audible, “Please,” passes her lips as a plea. 

Clarke is ready. She wants Lexa, and she wants her now. No more interruptions or wasted time.

A low growl emerges from deep within Lexa’s throat as she swiftly closes the distance. Her lips crash into Clarke’s, their teeth briefly clashing before they adjust. Lexa takes Clarke’s top lip between hers as one of her hands comes up to tangle in her blonde hair. The other grasps Clarke’s torn grey shirt in her fist, tugging her closer. 

Clarke’s hands wrap instinctively around Lexa, gripping her hips. She can feel the heat of Lexa’s skin through the sheer material of her tank top. 

Clarke swipes her tongue against Lexa’s bottom lip, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, and she takes advantage of Lexa’s slightly parted lips as slips her tongue into her mouth. Lexa lets out a moan that is almost primal. Clarke would do just about anything to hear that again. Her fingers dig harder into Lexa’s hips. 

Lexa tilts her head to deepen the kiss, her soft tongue meeting Clarke’s. The hand that was in Clarke’s hair now scratches against the back of her neck, sending tingles down her back and toes to curl.  
Clarke bites back a moan. She can feel the heat and wetness growing between her thighs. 

Lexa snarls suddenly, roughly pulling Clarke towards her and then pushing her back a step, “Stop. Holding. Back.” Lexa growls lowly into Clarke’s ear, “I want to hear you.”

Clarke shifts more into Lexa, picking up pace and force. Her hands slip under Lexa’s shirt. She is craving more contact. She needs to relieve this throbbing between her legs. And if Lexa wants to hear her moans, she is more than happy to voice them. She pushes Lexa until the backs of her thighs come into contact with the war table, jolting her a bit. 

Clarke wants to get this moving at a faster pace. She wants to feel Lexa’s lips somewhere else, and her hands playing with something other than her hair. She pulls back to shrug off her jacket. 

Lexa takes this opportunity to switch their positions. She doesn’t waste any time in lifting Clarke onto the war table, happy to hear the sound of another husky moan from Clarke. She stands between Clarke’s legs, her hands coming to rest on the top of her thighs. They knead her skin. Clarke’s skin is burning under her jeans. Lexa’s touch is like fire, getting hotter by the second, and Clarke wants to go up in flames.

Clarke grabs the back of Lexa’s head, pulling her in for a heated kiss, her hands getting tangled in Lexa’s braids. Nothing about it is soft. It is hard and urgent. Lexa meets her full force, nipping back with determination. Her hands wander beneath Clarke’s shirt, gripping at her back and leaving a scorching trail. 

Lexa’s hips roll unconsciously into the table, looking for some kind of contact to alleviate the pressure building between her legs. She has had enough of this foreplay. She scratches down the rest of Clarke’s back and reaches down to undo the button on Clarke’s jeans.

She fumbles a bit on the zipper, getting it stuck about halfway down. She groans in frustration as Clarke brings her hand to hers, steadying her. They take a moment to break away from their heated kiss and catch their breath, lips parted and panting, cheeks flushed. Love and lust are etched into their features, revealing to each other without words how much they both want this. 

Lexa pulls the zipper the rest of the way down. She leans in to nip at Clarke’s neck, starting at Clarke’s collar bone and working her way up to just behind her ear. When she kisses back down and reaches the hollow of Clarke’s neck, there is a sudden hitch in Clarke’s breathing. Lexa decides to bite down there, leaving a mark. Clarke’s breath comes out in whimpers near her ear, encouraging her. 

Lexa slips her hand into Clarke’s pants and then beneath thin material. The tips of her fingers are instantly coated with Clarke’s wetness. Lexa lets out a gasp as she slowly strokes Clarke’s folds. The intensity of the heat between Lexa’s own legs is getting harder to ignore, but she is focused on Clarke. All she wants is to have Clarke unravel before her, by her own hand and tongue.

Lexa tries to get a steady rhythm going with her hand, but between the bucking of Clarke’s hips and the small space her hand has to work with, she can’t seem to get a good angle or pace. 

She takes her hand out of Clarke’s pants only to kneel down to take off her boots. One gets caught on Clarke’s heel. Lexa lets out a grunt as she yanks the offending boot the rest of the way off. She hurriedly reaches up to Clarke’s belt loops, pulling down on the fabric. Clarke shifts and helps Lexa, tossing her jeans to the side. 

Lexa settles herself between Clarke’s legs once again. Her heart is beating frantically. She can’t believe Clarke is here before her and Lexa can’t wait to taste her. She can feel the heat coming from Clarke’s center. She can see that she is dripping onto the war table. Lexa’s thoughts briefly get her sidetracked as she hopes she does not have to make up an excuse for Indra as to why certain sections of the maps may have water damage. 

She shakes the thought from her mind and wastes no more time as she pulls Clarke to the edge of the table. She gently runs her the tip of her tongue along the length of Clarke, just tasting her. Lexa’s soft hot tongue feels so good but Clarke wants more. She doesn’t want gentle right now. 

She cants her hips into Lexa, looking for more pressure. At the next sweep of Lexa’s tongue, she lets out a gasp. Lexa hums in return, which sends shivers through Clarke. With the next soft lick, still too slow, she knows Lexa is just getting started, and she isn’t sure if she is going to be able to handle this agonizingly slow pace. Lexa is everywhere but where Clarke needs her.

She is about to voice this to Lexa, when Lexa’s tongue dips down and teases her entrance, then circles up to her clit and back down again, making Clarke’s mind go blank. Her hips buck and she pulls Lexa further into her. Lexa takes the hint. 

She puts more force into her licks and sucks on Clarke’s clit. She listens and pays attention to the way Clarke’s body responds to her touch. Her breathing is ragged, and there is a hitch in her breath every time Lexa flicks her tongue over her clit. Clarke’s hands tangle in her hair and pull at her roots as Lexa delves her tongue in and out of her.

The whimpers Clarke is making above her are making the pool of wetness between her own legs grow. She has no way to relieve the ache, nothing to grind against, but if Clarke keeps making those sounds above her, she might just come from that alone.

Lexa can’t help but steal a glance upwards as she shifts to roll her tongue in circles around Clarke’s clit. Her eyes take in Clarke’s labored breathing, her chest heaving. Lexa can make out the outline of her hardened nipples through her shirt. 

Clarke eyes are ablaze beneath hooded lids. She is watching the tip of Lexa’s tongue tease her. Clarke can’t help when her hips jerk into Lexa and her legs tighten around her head. Clarke is so close. Her eyes roll back. Her legs are trembling as she tries to unlatch them from Lexa to allow her to regain some movement. 

Clarke opens her eyes and takes another look at Lexa, her war paint is smudged down her cheeks and across Clarke’s inner thighs. Clarke watches as Lexa takes her right hand and moves it from holding onto her trembling thigh to her mouth. She coats her fingers with Clarke’s wetness from her lips before she gently enters her. 

“Lexa,” Clarke shudders at the first contact. She is desperate. Her hands search for something to grasp onto, crumpling maps in the process. 

Clarke tries to stop her hips from bucking but Lexa’s pace is still to slow. 

“Lexa, please,” Clarke pants from above her. 

Lexa tries to match the thrusting of Clarke's hips with her fingers. As Clarke’s pace increases, Lexa rises slightly from her knees to keep up. Clarke’s legs wrap around her shoulders as she stands. 

Lexa uses this to her advantage as she pushes Clarke down against the top of the table. She can feel Clarke’s calves quivering against her shoulders. Clarke takes in Lexa’s reddened lips, she wants them back against hers. 

She lets her legs fall from Lexa’s shoulders and her feet rest on top of the table. She pulls on Lexa’s tank top, successfully bringing their mouths back together. She tastes herself on Lexa’s lips as she licks into her mouth. 

Lexa readjusts herself so that she is straddling Clarke on the table, propping herself up on her left forearm. Her right hand returns to its previous residence between Clarke’s thighs. 

Lexa’s fingers are moving faster and harder with each passing second. Her palm grinds against Clarke’s clit. Clarke wraps her legs around Lexa and the shift in position allows for Lexa to angle her hand and reach that spot inside Clarke. 

Lexa can feel Clarke’s body tense against hers. She is mumbling incoherently above Lexa. Lexa can only make out broken pieces of “faster… harder.” 

Then when Lexa curls her fingers a raspy, “Fuck yes, right there, Lexa.” Lexa hits that spot again and again as she sucks on the hollow of Clarke’s neck. 

Clarke’s breaths are coming out as a mixture of ragged pants and whimpers. Lexa can feel Clarke’s walls tightening. Then with a scream of, “Fuck, Lexa!” that can probably be heard all the way to Polis, Clarke comes against Lexa’s fingers. 

Clarke is panting beneath her, her skin glistening. As her desperate lungs attempt to fill with air, Lexa nuzzles into Clarke’s neck. As her breathing finally begins to slow, Lexa starts to move off of Clarke. But Clarke’s hand is still firmly holding onto her tank top. 

“Wait,” she says, not giving Lexa an inch to move away, and voice still breathy, “Now it’s your turn, Heda.”

Clarke props herself up on her elbows and shifts so that she has enough leverage to roll them over. The tough wood of the table digs into Lexa’s shoulders, briefly taking her mind off the ache between her legs. Clarke’s thigh comes into direct contact with her center, bringing her mind right back. 

“Clarke,” the name ghosts across her lips.

Clarke leans down, gently hovering over Lexa, pulling at her pant legs as she eases them down. She stops to remove her boots and then pulls on the pant legs once more. Once they are off, Lexa wastes no time hungrily capturing her lips in a demanding kiss. Clarke pulls back all too quickly for Lexa, who is trying to keep her breathing steady. 

Clarke pulls up just out of Lexa’s reach. Lexa is getting frustrated, and Clarke is quite enjoying returning the favor. Clarke’s hair is a messy cascade across her shoulders, with a strand hovering in front of her face. She brushes the errant strand behind an ear as she starts a slow grind into Lexa.

Lexa can feel Clarke’s heat and slickness rub against her. She can’t stop the sharp inhales accompanied by soft whines falling from her lips. Lexa is about to to come apart at any moment. Her body is reacting to Clarke’s every touch. Her hips are bucking into Clarke’s, who tries to hold them down as she continues her torturously slow pace.

“Clarke,” she all but growls this time. Her hips keep bucking, looking for some kind of friction.

A grin forms on Clarke’s lips and there is a hint of playfulness in her eyes, “It’s Skai Prisa, Heda.”

“Fuck me, Skai Prisa,” she says, and it is a command, “Hard.”

Clarke shifts her own weight and lets go of Lexa’s hips. She drags her fingers feather light down to Lexa’s inner thigh. Lexa can feel the exact path Clarke’s fingers are taking as they stroke back up towards her center. 

“Now,” Lexa chokes out. 

Clarke brings her hand up to her mouth, her tongue coming out to lick two of her fingers as she holds eye contact with Lexa. Lexa’s jaw drops. Clarke knows exactly what she is doing. She purposefully runs her fingers along the length of Lexa before circling her clit in tight circles. Hovering just above her, watching as Lexa’s face comes apart with her every stroke. She knows Lexa is close. 

Clarke pushes two fingers inside Lexa and lets her thumb brush against her clit with each thrust of her hand. She matches the pace of Lexa’s hips. She can feel the tightness around her fingers. Clarke’s mouth comes down to nip at Lexa’s lips before capturing her in a bruising kiss. 

They are biting, licking, panting into each other’s mouths. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before Lexa is unraveling under Clarke, her body quaking as her nails dig into Clarke’s shoulders. She is gasping Clarke’s name over and over again as she comes. 

Clarke holds her until her breathing becomes more than shallow gasps for air. Lexa finally releases her grip on Clarke’s back, bringing her hands to Clarke’s face. She gently tugs Clarke down, their lips meeting once again, but this time in the softest of kisses.


End file.
